A Box of Figs
by sciodeduct
Summary: After the sacrifice and Grima's terror a thing of the past, the forlorn Lon'qu is at a loss. After fruitless efforts to find the tactician, Lon'qu leaves and returns to Regna Ferox after a fight with his son, Morgan. One day, a box full of figs and a letter directs him to Plegia.
1. Figs

**A/N: Just an idea that came up. Constructive criticism is valued. Have a good day.**

The days were cold and the nights reminded him of the chill of indifference life had given him when he lost the first girl he cared for. At night when the harsh cold of Regna Ferox managed to bring drafts through his opened window, he would extricate himself from his furs and stood before it, in hopes to numb his depression and anxiety from the second loss.

When he watched her go, Lon'qu felt just as useless as when he first witnessed Ke'ri die. He could have done something about it this time around, but he realized the strength of his wife's conviction when she pushed Chrom aside and dealt the finishing blow.

Lon'qu had been forced to separate from his tactician when Morgan fell back. And when he managed to bring his son back to his feet, it was already too late.

She had done the deed.

Her cloak flapped with the wind, her hair obscuring one side the second she gave a sidelong stare to everyone. On the windy battlefield that was Grima's back, everyone went rigid.

His wife's body began to disintegrate before everyone. Each fiber of her being became motes of energy as she slipped within the winds embrace.

He managed to catch her eye for a brief second and he felt his heart go cold.

"Mom..." Morgan whispered. The strain in his voice was enough for Lon'Qu to break out from his disgruntled faze.

"No, you can't go!"

His felt his hands instinctively tighten around the hilt of his blade. Without a moment's hesitance he fought against the wind to close the distance, but it had already been too late.

It took Frederick and Gregor to hold the swordsman back.

Chrom had been frozen the entire time. The crown prince of Ylisse sunk to his knees and clutched Falchion to his chest in a manner which would suggest keeping him from falling.

Once the final motes of the beloved tactician disappeared into oblivion, the entire army was transported when the Fell Dragon disappeared in a similar fashion.

_Grima is gone and so is my wife._

They wounded up atop a bluff, overlooking a massive expanse while the sun sank in the distance. The skies glowed a mix of tangerine and lavender.

"She cannot be gone, she can't," someone cried in the crowd.

Several voices joined in, adding their own reassurances.

"I cannot believe her to be gone; she is not the dying sort." He interjected, pressing a hand above his heart while he looked at the sunset.

Morgan joined him soon after, standing beside him until Lon'Qu took his son into his arms.

They wept quietly while everyone else rounded up to Chrom, wondering for their next course of action.

It wasn't much of a surprise when the Ylissean prince announced the searched for their fallen tactician.

However, that was a year ago now.

Midway in the search, Lon'Qu could no longer gather his bearings and soon disappeared from the Shepherds. However, it did not take long for his son to find him. The boy had been seething in a mixture of grief and anger.

He could tell that his son did his best to restrain himself, noticing how his knuckles turned white when he clutched at his tome. There was noticeable age on the text, having many dog-ears, yellowed pages, and the cover expressing excessive use. Lon'Qu knew it was his wife's strategy book.

"How could you just leave without saying a word!?" Morgan screamed, his dark eyes glassy with tears.

"I..."

He couldn't come up with a coherent explanation. Not a plausible one, at least.

_Because she's dead, I can no longer keep searching for a ghost._ He had wanted to say, but the swordsman couldn't bring himself to say them. Not to his son, anyway. Yet, Lon'Qu couldn't believe his own words, either. Not when the son he created with his beloved wife still managed to be here.

_He is from the future, if she was gone, so would he. _

But then he reminded himself that his Morgan quite possibly belonged to another time. A dimension where she still lived.

Oh, the things he would give up if he could wind up there.

In the end, he dealt a falling out with his only son. The one person that held half of his wife in his blood, but Lon'qu could not bear to look at Morgan, especially when he possessed a likeness to his wife. He inherited her soft yet expressive eyes and the glow in them when he came to a conclusion or the wrinkle between his brows when he entered deep contemplation. However, in the moment, a likeness of his own revealed in Morgan when the boy realized that his father would not budge. There was a glint in his dark eyes, a fury only Lon'Qu recognized whenever he looked himself in a mirror.

It was the anger he harbored when life first dealt him a crushing blow.

Lon'Qu did not go after his son when he stormed off. He couldn't.

_I dealt the boy the same coldness life gave me. _

_We've won the war, but lost the greatest treasure. _

Eventually, the swordsman returned to Regna Ferox, with the intent to remain champion to Basilio. However, when he took the first crusty step before the portcullis of Regna Ferox, the former leading Khan refused him.

He still took residence in the northern kingdom, but he no longer held his blade for the West Khan. Instead, he took up a position as guard and often took many chances for the nightly watch.

Sleep eluded him like the comfort he sought. When he tried to close his eyes, all he could feel was restlessness. Too often would he find himself trying to grasp the familiar warm skin of Robin and the scent of her hair when he clutched for the spare pillow. Before the final battle, Lon'Qu sent a raven which held details for the future arrangements. Unfortunately, it was all for naught.

Therefore, Lon'Qu stayed up all night, slept all morning, and idled about in the afternoon.

On one particular early morning, however, he returned to his chambers only to find Basilio waiting.

The skies were the color of inky mist, glowing faintly in the distance. It would not take long for the morning to grow dark once more, characteristic to the land of Regna Ferox.

When the surly man turned to face his former champion, he nearly fell back, but regained his stature by holding onto a nearby sconce.

"Gods! Lon'qu, is that truly you?"

Lon'Qu remained silent, bringing a calloused hand to his face to feel the rough hairs that had grown. His fingers remained until he felt reassured that he was touching his own face.

"Far as I know, I still am," he replied in a dull tone, "what brings you here, Khan?"

The dark man regarded the swordsman uncomfortably, not used to such formality. Especially from the man who served him dutifully. In the kingdom of ice where warriors were as harsh as the winters, actions said more of a person than their words and the actions from Lon'qu rivalled a snowstorm.

"Basilio, my name is Basilio,"

"I know your name, sir,"

Basilio frowned, perturbed by Lon'qu's aloof manner.

Regardless, the West Khan dug his hand into his pocket and pulled out a package. He held it before Lon'Qu, a look of sternness came across his face that even shook the swordsman.

Lon'Qu dropped his eyes onto the package, noticing two seals from the royal house of Ylisse and Plegia.

He did not bother to take the package, so when Basilio took possession of his hand, Lon'qu barely gave a squeeze to keep the package between his fingers.

"Pull it together, damn it, or I'll kill you!"

When Lon'qu only stared back, blinking once, the West Khan growled and left. His steps deafening the farther they went rather than quieting.

Entering his chambers, the swordsman tossed the package aside. He freed himself from his garb and dressed plainly, adoring a wool shirt, loose trousers, and draped a cloak around him. For most of the early morning, he drank red wine and eventually fell asleep.

"Lon'qu, what are you doing over there?" she asked him.

The dark-haired man froze in place at her voice. He had not heard it in what felt like years. Lon'qu found himself in a grassy field, seeing the tall grass bend under the breath of wind and heard the leaves shutter. Not too far away he found a cleared path. It did not take long to realize where he was.

The pathway to the Halidom of Ylisse was a blur for Lon'qu only visited the land a few times. Is this where his wife, Robin, was found?

Must have been when he found her form, her back to him with her head bent forward as if she were reading.

Without a moment's waste, he tried to walk towards her. Unfortunately, his steps were slow and ponderous. What in the world?

"Lon'qu, you're not answering me… why are you over there? Come here, with me, I have something to show you."

He did his best to come to her beck, but the weight of his feet barely budged. In vain, he cried out.

"Robin, I can't move, I…"

A dark fog enveloped around her in an instant. Curling, undulating, something like a flicker light tried to break free.

When he heard her speak again, cold fingers ran up and down his spine. No longer was it soft and calming like he had remembered, now her voice registered to a humming tone. The more words that left her mouth, the deeper her voice went until he heard a clap of thunder ring out above. Lightning tore through sky and struck his wife.

"Robin!"

Now he felt his feet become weightless. Lon'qu went to close the distance between them, but where his wife had stood was now replaced with a towering beast.

Grima's legs were bigger and thicker than the watch towers of a castle. The Fell Dragon loomed over the swordsman and let out a thunderous roar.

"NO!"

_You were supposed to search for me_, a voice cried in his mind.

_You left me alone to wander in isolation… you abandoned your search… Morgan… he…_

"You're dead! I… are you…? What of Morgan…? Did he… join you…?"

The beast cried out in anger. Before Lon'qu could register what to do next, Grima dipped its mighty head downward and caught the swordsman between its teeth.

"I'm sorry!"

His skin was drenched in perspiration. The furs stuck to him uncomfortably so he tore them off before he fell off from his bed. Everything about him was odd and strange, out of focus and he felt a lump in his throat. Reaching for the window, he pushed it open and retched.

When he was done, Lon'qu remained there, letting the icy air dry his sweaty skin and to numb his body till he couldn't feel it quake.

_Naga, bring her back to me, please._

Lon'qu back away from the window, turned, and looked for the package. Something in him urged him to open it. When he found the package, Lon'qu nearly tumbled over. He retrieved it from the ground and brought it with him as he sat near the brazier. Gingerly, he removed the seals of the two kingdoms and placed them aside. There was a note etched into the box that read: _to a Khan in the making._

He furrowed his brows. Giving it a shake, he felt an assortment of round shapes roll about. When he opened it he felt his heart tighten.

Figs.

For just one moment Lon'qu dared to hope. One moment of reprieve made him feel alright. Could this mean Robin was alive?

He breathed deeply.

Beneath the figs he found a letter. He went to light a candle before he did anything else.

_Dear Lon'qu,_

_Under orders of the newly crowned king of Plegia, we ask of you to lend your strength to our kingdom. The rulers of Plegia and Ylisse have forged an alliance that provoked ill feelings. The Grimleal still prove a threat after the fall of Grima and people of ill intent wish to kidnap the offspring of the fallen vessel. As the father of King Morgan, we ask of you to come as quickly as possible, for your martial prowess is well-known._

_As an order from the king, he asked of us to send you an assortment of figs. We hope they are to your liking._

_From the Council of Plegia._

"King… Morgan…?"

The dream from earlier flooded his mind. Robin chastised him for his relent and made mention of Morgan. Is this what she meant?

As he sat there, a new feeling filled him, an emotion which made every muscle tense. Another one seeped in soon after when he realized that his wife was looking after him, after all this time. While the sentiment was a pleasant one, Lon'qu realized he had brought grief to Robin. The only way he could make amends was if he answered the beck of his son-now-king.

"Robin… I'm sorry."

Before he left the kingdom of Regna Ferox, he asked a page to send word of his leave to the Khans.

"When will you return?" the page had asked.

Lon'qu stared out to watch the flurry of snowflakes fall all around him.

"I don't know, I'll see how the heat of Plegia takes to me."


	2. Border Pass

The snowflakes buried in his dark hair melted long ago as he reached the path between cold and warmth. He still had a ways to go before he could reach Plegia and he knew the potential risks ahead. He took leave from the Longfort, a watch station situated eastward where the Northroad was used for the southron traders and travelers.

The northwoods was an easy feat to overcome as he reached the clearing of the Northroad. There was hardly a soul to see and due to habit, he walked with his sword hand ready.

There was a smaller station south of Arena Ferox, but the path ahead consisted of a sea of sand with a punishing sun overhead. It was arguably the shorter route yet there were variables which would hinder his pace. Mounds of sand impeded speed, the heat would tire him, especially since he was a Feroxi despite his birth origin. Therefore, he took the longer route.

A fortnight had passed since his departure from Regna Ferox. When he reached a sea of tall grass, Lon'qu sat upon a massive stump so he could consult his map.

Sometimes he wondered the point of maps, especially at how truly out of scale they were. He remembered the nights when he joined Robin in the consulting tent. She would be hard at work as her brows were furrowed, eyes narrowed, and in his quiet observations could have sworn that smoke would spout from her ears.

"If only the distances detailed in the map could be the same, it would make the marches all the less tiring," she had said, wearing a weary smile.

He remembered one particular night, a time when their confessions were not too far behind, how he stood from a seat and joined Robin before the table. Her hands were cold as his own wrapped around them and he pressed close to her, lowering his head so his nose graced her forehead. Their breathing quickly escalated before anymore could be said. The contact was quick to set off the perspiration, but they did nothing that night due to an early march at first light.

However, on the night after the march…

Lon'qu shook the memory away and focused on the map once more. There would be many plains ahead before he could reach the fork in the road, leading to either Plegia or Ylisse. The man had an idea of visiting the Halidom first, but a nagging voice told him not to. The rationalization was the possibility of open acrimony between not only Chrom and him, but everyone else in the army that remained in Ylisse. Lon'qu left without saying a word to anyone and estimating the rage Morgan presented to him, he could imagine the rest being just as upset.

What kind of man aborts a mission in search of his missing wife?

Not a very good one, he came to accept.

Coming upon the thought of Chrom, the swordsman wondered how the new Exalt felt at Robin's disappearance. Was he sad? Distraught?

It was no secret of how close the two were. When he first met the duo, he almost took them for lovers due to how attentive they were to each other. At the time, he remembered how he didn't care much. Actually, he was far too concentrated to maintain a healthy distance between himself and the women who followed Chrom.

The fear he felt when Lissa neared him made his stomach turn. Robin had laughed quietly at that.

_My Robin, the only woman I can welcome being near me._

But anyway, the relationship between Chrom and Robin was more or less jovial in nature. They maintained a professional image in front of everyone, yet during festivities, they were tied to the hip. It took some getting used after he asked for her hand.

"I never took you for the jealous type, Lon'qu, but at least this proves your adoration for me," she told him one evening, to which he rebuttaled with the usual grunt.

"I went to a woman's establishment, a _woman's establishment_, I must stress, to get your ring… I think that feat proves enough,"

Her eyes softened then, her lips curling slightly before she told him how she loved him. The words made his chest tighten and his stomach light.

"I… I love you too…"

_But I never said it enough when you were still here._

A few days later he paid a trading caravan to lead him most of the way. When he reached the clearing, the rest of the road was flat He spent most of that particular day watching the tall grass sway with the wind, like dancers moving to a slow tune. Aside from that to pass time, he took to peeling a chunk of wood he found along the way, so as to keep his hands busy. Lon'qu was the kind of man to believe one had to keep their assets working, if they're ever to remain sharp.

This ritual maintained even when he wasted at Regna Ferox, when his sleeping schedule was shot and he took to drinking more often. By no means was he an alcoholic, but he took enough to settle his frayed nerves. In the afternoons, he would do a series of repetitions with his blade, but his convictions to be stronger dwindled.

Now, however, on his way to meet with his son, Lon'qu worked his sword hand more vigorously than he could remember.

He was even sore and it nagged at him when he peeled his chunk of wood too fast. He took a moment to glance down at his creation. Perhaps not many would take too kindly to this piece of art, but the mark did not hold the same connotation for him. Many would cringe to see the mark of Grima whereas the mark of the Exalt would set their fears to rest. To Lon'qu, he viewed the mark in a sentimental manner.

"I can drop you off right at the crossroads, there's border men stationed there due to increased brigand attacks. You seem strong enough to hold your own though, so I trust you don't mind hopping off when I set on the path to Ylisstol?" The caravan driver announced, briefly looking over his shoulder to get a glance at the swordsman.

"Of course, I'll be sure to derail a few if they get too close to your goods, sir," Lon'qu replied, struggling to remain in his seat when the caravan rode over some stones.

"You mean that young man? How mighty kind of ya! I'd take you the whole way to Plegia if I didn't carry so many goods, but from what I hear from over the mountains that things are getting better, however there is some struggle with the cult causing some havoc. The new king is said to be strong and kind, but rules with an iron fist when needed."

"That's good to hear, perhaps there's a good chance I won't be having much trouble on the way there."

Mention of his son brought a queer feeling to Lon'qu. He knew Morgan was now king, but hearing him being mentioned made everything real. Maybe even surreal now that he was forced to realize how Robin really was gone and his son now took up a crown.

_I'm father to a king._ When he really thought about it, it made Robin an actual princess when her father, Validar, was king. The idea warmed him, but he was glad never to have met Validar. It would have been one of the weirdest meet-ups in the history of men meeting their significant other's fathers.

A day later, Lon'qu was dropped off by the caravan driver and bade the man good luck on the rest of the way to Ylisstol. The crossroads was surprisingly crowded with many travelers weary as himself and traders stood beneath their makeshift tents. Even a group of survey riders trotted about atop their geldings. The roads were visible on all sides, curved inward and outward, like a snake.

_Morgan and Chrom have done well to bring peace back here._

For a time the road to Ylisstol was tempting. It was west he needed to go, however. Morgan awaited him from behind the mountains which shielded Plegia. The path leading up the mountains was crowded with patrolmen. Flag bearers held the banner of the country. It revealed a dark dragon on a golden field. He assumed it to be the deserts on which Plegia was founded. The purple flag flowed with the wind like the motion of water. The sight of it reminded him of the robes _she_ wore.

"It looks like Morgan is keeping the borders tight these days, I hope there isn't much trouble in the country."

Before he would continue his journey west through the mountains of Border Pass, he purchased a garron to take him through the mountainous terrain. The creature sighed loudly as he ran his hand down its snout and kept the reins tight with the other.

"There there," he soothed.

Lon'qu found a travelling merchant setting up his wares. There was a small line ahead of him, but the swordsman didn't mind. While he waited, he slipped the map out from his pouch and examined the roads ahead. Presently, he was west of Ylisstol and he would need to traverse through the spiraling ascension that was Border Pass.

He remembered how exhausting the march had been when Chrom's army was making their way west. His sister, the former Exalt, had been kidnapped under the mad king, Gangrel. Robin had been especially under stress during the move to Plegia. She refused to have dealings with anyone when she locked herself in her tent, glued to her strategies.

"Most of Plegia is under the thumb of the new Exalt," said a man, starting a conversation with a friend beside him.

"That's probably for the best, despite the resistance from the Grimleal," his friend replied, "but I heard the newly crowned king is a dragonspawn of Grima…"

There was an unsettling silence between them. The man cleared his throat. "I've heard the same, and it worries me if what they say is true. What was the Exalt thinking? He put a monster on a throne and his tainted blood will make him vulnerable to the cult."

It was all Lon'qu could do to not knock their heads together. The men waited behind him and the weight of his sword increased at his hip.

"That's if the rumor is true," his friend added, "but from what I hear, king Morgan is a kind young man. There is word that he is related to the tactician that helped bring peace back to the realm. Let's hope he can do the same for Plegia."

When the customer ahead of him left, Lon'qu slipped the map away and stepped forward.

The merchant greeted him with a smile. A wizened old man dressed richly in attire typical of Chon'sin. He hadn't seen someone from his homeland since Say'Ri, a young woman in charge of a rebel group when Walhart the Conqueror took rise in power.

"Are you from Chon'sin, young man? You have the looks of one from there, but you have the air of a northman."

Lon'qu avoided the man's eyes for a moment before replying. "Yes, I was born there, but left for Regna Ferox when I was a child."

The merchant nodded in acknowledgment. "Do you intend to return soon? The cherry blossoms will be blooming in the near future. Y'see, I lived here for many years due to my trade, but I always go back to see the blossoms."

"Maybe, when I'm done with my business," he stretched a closed hand towards the merchant and dropped golden coins onto the table that separated them.

The old man seemed to take the hint in Lon'qu's impatience.

"What will it be?"

"Four skins of water, a bag of oranges and apples, and a dozen strips of jerky,"

"It appears your business is far from here still, correct?"

Lon'qu refrained from expressing annoyance. He came to find the old man as the sort who liked to be nosy in people's lives, but he let it slide. There were other more pressing issues for him to be annoyed about soon enough. He wasn't sure of what exactly yet he envisioned it to be in the near future. Whatever it would be, he would be prepared.

"I have someone to meet up with, concerning issues that require my expertise,"

Upon receiving the provisions, he slid them into his pack helter-skelter and reached for his garron.

Before the border patrol men, travelers waited in line and a caravan was riding up close behind. He trotted behind the driver and waited patiently, holding the reins tight while he allowed his mind to wander elsewhere.

Above the skies remained particularly bright with the exception of a darkening in its depths. The tint managed to leak out across the skies by the time Lon'qu neared his turn.

"State your business," a border man demanded, his voice deep and hallow through his helm.

The caravan driver explained his trade and was given permission to carry on.

When Lon'qu trotted upward, he remained relatively unperturbed in his train of thought.

"State your business," the man asked.

"To see the king," Lon'qu replied, stiff.

It was only until the scratch of blades leaving their scabbards did Lon'qu felt inclined to bring out his. Naturally, he was much faster than these bordermen. Before one could point their blades toward him, his already aimed, glinting sharply beneath the sun's waning shine.

"What does some unkempt man have to do with the king?" this time through the helm did the borderman's voice sound not only hallow, but raised an octave.

"He has summoned me,"

"Hogwash, we would have been told,"

The ground beneath their feet vibrated under the sudden rush of stampeding hooves heading their way. A gust of dust enveloped around them and the man brought his muscled forearm to shield his face. Coughing, he turned away when a horse whinnied before him.

"No way!" a familiar voice exclaimed, "Hey, borderman, let this man aside! He's to be led under me, so there's no CAWS to be alarmed!"

Lon'qu froze above his garron. In response, the creature began to back up in a ponderous manner, becoming nervous under the swordsman's restrained alarm.

"Henry?" asked Lon'qu, looking ahead to find the familiar dark mage sitting upon a white gelding. On his shoulder was a crow, its wings stretched out so as to keep its balance.

"Deadbeat, you sure came a lot faster than I would have anticipated!" Henry wore his signature smile, but there was something more to it. A feeling of animosity grew from it.

Lon'qu frowned. "…Deadbeat?"

The smile grew to the point where it would have split his face. "What else am I to call ya? But any who, I was instructed to guide you all the way through Border Pass and make sure you arrive safely to Plegia. Though, I'm sure no one would object to a few scratches on ya."

What Lon'qu envisioned earlier finally came into fruition. This would be one of many punishments against him. He did his best to maintain his cool, but Henry kept on with his quips.

The bordermen made no arguments with Henry and allowed Lon'qu to pass.

"Are you really going to see King Morgan with what you look like right now?" Henry asked as they began their ascent.

Lon'qu said nothing for a time, feeling how much more thick his beard grew since he left Regna Ferox. He meant to shave before he embarked on his journey, but decided he would leave his face untouched through the frosted woods.

"I'm going to shave soon enough," he finally replied.

"I'm surprised I recognized you, Lon'qu, but I was able to smell defeat from miles away!"

_Defeat_, the crow repeated.

_For the love of the gods, this bird can talk._

"Put it to rest, Henry," the man growled. "You know nothing of being a parent or a husband,"

The dark mage laughed, the crow joined a second after.

"I don't know about that, but I'm sure taking lessons of what not to do through you!"

Lon'qu furrowed his brows, unsure. "What do you mean?"

Henry aimed a thumb behind him.

"I have a bun in the oven back in Ylisse," he explained, jovial.

"With who?" incredulity was heavy in Lon'qu's voice.

"Miriel,"

Not a word was said for a time. His mind reeled with so much surprise he couldn't come up with a lucid sentence. Lon'qu remembered Miriel very well, with her insistence to test his aversion with women. A brief memory to female statues flooded his mind. He shivered.

_It appears inanimate stimuli do not trigger your fear response. I will have to postulate new parameters to see the extent of your aversion._

After the conclusion of his espousal with Robin did he learn how part of her tactics were formulated with the assistance of Miriel. The red-haired woman came to him a few days after, inquiring him of how he felt.

"She wondered on the extent of how sensitive you were in the presence of females and came up with a hypothesis of flooding your other senses to see whether or not your fear response would trigger."

Lon'qu drew out a long sigh at the memory.

"How did such a union come to be?" he managed to ask.

Henry replied flat out, not particularly ashamed with the details. "We wanted to artificially create life through magic, but we ended up producing our own the 'ol fashion way."

His smile was unrelenting.

"That's… well, I'm happy for you two,"

The dark of night soon overwhelmed the sky and hindered proper vision through the rough terrain. Lon'qu urged to keep going, but his companion advised him otherwise. They made camp in the inner corner of a turn on the road where travelers could see their fire.

Their horses rested beside each other while the men prepared for the night. Henry casted a fire with wood he sparked off from a cliff above them. When Lon'qu chastised the dark mage of his imprudence, Henry only smiled and dismissed the notion entirely, saying he would be able to handle it.

The swordsman remained perturbed, but made no further arguments on the subject. They didn't utter a word during the night and went to bed without a simple 'goodnight'.

He slept beside the fire on the hard ground, his blade in reach in case of an attack. Sleep came for him surprisingly quick.

"You must be tired, dear," she whispered beside him.

Lon'qu lazily opened his eyes, finding his wife beside him. Robin's slender form was laid out before him, her arm supported her head and her hair flowed wildly on the ground. He held his breath when he managed to focus in on her face. She was pale white yet looked as well as when he last beheld her.

Her fingers were cool when they intertwined through his dark hair.

"Robin…"

A smile graced her countenance. "Shh, relax now, I'm here,"

His fingers were ponderous as he tried to run his fingers through her hair. To his surprise, they were as cold as her fingers.

"I never thought I would say this, but I'm lost without you. Why'd you have to go?"

Robin only stared at him. Her soft smile remained, but her eyes appeared pained. Lon'qu started again.

"Naga said there was a chance for you to come back if ours and everyone's ties were strong enough, but you never turned up… What does this—"

A cold finger pressed against his lips and her eyes became solid.

"Lon'qu, you wouldn't feel this way if you were able to find happiness in yourself. You can't drag around broken because I'm not here," her eyes became liquid as they expressed sympathy. "You have Morgan to think about right now, is he okay?"

"I'm off to see him soon,"

A heavy sigh withdrew from her, relieved. "You must take care of Morgan and make sure he is safe."

He nodded, reaching for her cold hands and brought the tips of her fingers to his mouth. How did she become so cold?

"I've angered him, Robin, but I love him… you're so cold…"

"I am very cold, Lon'qu, I have been for a long time now," she explained.

For a moment he thought she was about to cry. He slid an arm around to bring her close, but before he could feel how cold she truly was, she disappeared.

Before he gained consciousness, the following words drifted away.

_Watch over Morgan._

Henry was pleasantly surprised to find Lon'qu sitting before the edge of the path, looking over the drop from where they managed to ascend. He had an inkling of an idea to push him over to compensate for the pain he caused, but his death would bring nothing. Well, for everyone else. For the dark mage, it would be enough. Maybe a little cursing beforehand.

Looking about him he found the horses to be fed and given water with the skin bottles Lon'qu bought. Henry yawned and got up, hearing his bones snap into place and further reminded him of how he would become old someday. This line of thought became a frequent visitor now that he knew he would become a father sometime soon.

"Are you ready to get going?" Lon'qu turned away from the edge, facing Henry straight on with a clean face.

A guffaw escaped him as he lifted a finger towards the swordsman.

"Your face is mismatched, y'know? From being under the sun for too long, but you don't look as bad as I would have thought. At least, compared to everyone else."

A nonplussed look drew across Lon'qu's face, a brow raised while his mouth remained a stiff line.

"What do you mean by that?"

Henry only shook his head.

"You'll see soon enough, maybe,"

He then wore his signature smile.

-  
**A/N: Due to positive reviews, I'm encouraged to continue this story. I'll try to maintain posting on a weekly basis.**  
**Thanks and have a fantastical day. **


	3. Your Grace pt I

**A/N: Apologies for the long update. When I commenced the story, it was a few days before I had to move and I've been busy unpacking and settling in. I also adopted a dog so I've been busy with training. I'll be sure to be more consistent in posting on a weekly basis. **  
**-**

A screech rang out by the contact of steel against steel. Sparks flew as the strength behind the axe attempted to remove the barrier that was a finely crafted blade.

His grunt grew into a snarl as Lon'qu shoved the man forward and carried his momentum through by sliding the blade into the brigand's shoulder. The opponent cried out as red rain poured through the newly formed hole and dropped to his knees. He pressed a shaking hand against the wound in hopes to stymie the flow once Lon'qu retracted his blade.

"And you're not going to kill him? Where's your _edge_?" Henry complained.

Lon'qu stepped back to scan the damage before them. Four brigands had assaulted them from above, having climbed down from the boulders overhead.

Henry made quick work of the three with the most fluid of motion. Swaying his arm as the tome he held floated while he activated a spell.

Lon'qu dealt with the one who aimed straight for him. The brigand was tall in height, thick with muscle, and carried a battle axe. Even then, he was no match for the Feroxi.

He aimed his blade before the brigand, the blood dripping thick as it slid towards the point.

As the man trembled on his knees, his hand over the wound, a tattoo was revealed.

The Mark of Grima.

As was informed by Henry shortly after their awakening, he explained how the Grimleal now adopted a new custom. Which was to embed the mark upon their hand; a practice made official when Validar had been alive.

Lon'qu's sword hand felt heavy at once, yearning to remove such an affront.

"I will not kill you, but in return I demand for you to go back from wherever you came and advise your cult to quit the raids."

The man breathed heavily, panting like an animal giving birth. Beads of sweat enveloped from his forehead and his face gleamed a shade of maroon beneath the glowing pale skies. Lon'qu had given a good punch to his face and shove against a stone wall before he had the chance to reequip his axe when he was unhanded the first few minutes after taking Lon'qu straight on...

When he looked up, his voice came out raspy.

"I took you for an Ylissean, but I was wrong... However—"

His words were cut short when his throat sounded as though it were stuffed. Soon enough, his face became pale and a tint of blue became apparent.

Lon'qu glanced over his shoulder to find Henry with his hand raised.

"What are you doing?"

The dark mage only smiled.

"He's talking too much and he won't do as you ask, he'll only come back with a stronger force."

"But that's not—"

A yelp was the last either of them heard. Lon'qu looked back to find the man flat on his stomach, dead.

"Henry, this is not the way. To intimidate, you must send word back!"

Henry pulled himself back onto his gelding. His crow, having waited atop the gelding's head, flew back onto his shoulder. When he took hold of the reins, he gave one pull and the creature moved.

"You have really changed, Lon'qu, the fight in you is gone." He swept the scene before them with his arm.

"The campaign may have ended, but war never truly ends. These men..."

It was not often to see the absence of a blithe disposition in a man like Henry, but at the moment there was a somber sentiment when he spoke. Oddly, it sounded fitting.

"Let's just say they're prepared to die and I'm in no way upset to know of that," his smile returned. "As for you, I suppose the best of you died off when she disappeared."

Lon'qu maintained an unperturbed front, but could not hide his anger as he stomped for his garron. The creature gave no fight as he took hold of the reins and simply walked on.

"Tell me of Morgan, Henry, how does he fair?" asked Lon'qu after they resumed their steady pace.

There was still a ways to go before they would descend Border Pass. They neared the bluff where a side view of Plegia's castle could be seen. As they passed, the remains of Grima's first death were hard to miss. They remained aligned from when Grima fell and from above he could see moving specks before the carcass. He hoped they were patrolmen and not the Grimleal, for the remains were close to where Morgan waited.

The sight ailed Lon'qu and he was forced to remember Robin's sacrifice. He supposed that it was better for her and Grima to have dissipated into oblivion rather than end up as remains.

"Morgan is fine," Henry lied.

"Henry, do not play me for a fool," warned Lon'qu.

Henry offered a finger to his crow and the creature hopped on without hesitation. The crow cawed in an earsplitting falsetto as it stretched its dark wings.

Fool, it mimicked.

"You never showed concern for your son before, what's special now?" He grumbled.

Lon'qu just about had it with Henry's petulant disposition, but the dark mage seemed to pick up the seething.

He looked to his crow with a serene expression before he spoke.

"The young king puts on a brave face, but he's more or less the Morgan we knew. He's penchant to deep contemplations and often ponders his significance, however,"

"So he is depressed," Lon'qu stated.

"The thinking is what's killing him, Lon'qu. Aside from the Grimleal threat, another remains hidden with a far more nefarious intent. I think—"Henry paused, casting a tart look towards Lon'qu, "—he'll become better with your presence, even if you did abandon him."

Lon'qu felt his chest turn cold. He tried to come up with an explanation, yet his words failed him. They did not leave his lips when he realized what he would be doing, coming up with excuses which would complete nothing. He knew whatever he said could not justify what he'd done a year ago.

_I'm nothing, my worth relies solely on my sword hand and even then I haven't improved since the end of the campaign._

Instead, he said what came natural to him. True words from his heart even if he felt them lacking in conviction. He said them all the same.

"I know what I have done and I know I have a lot to make up for. Morgan is still my son; I will do the best I can to keep him safe, even if I'm not the man I used to be."

_Or was I ever?_

Later that day when the moon replaced the sun, the duo had made camp again. Henry had said they were not too far off from the entrance, but recommended to wait when Lon'qu pressed on continuing.

"You don't want to look anymore haggard and exhausted when you see King Morgan, he needs your strength in full, not divided."

Lon'qu eventually relented.

Henry had cursed a snake to slither its way to their fire, dancing upon the ground as it neared the swaying flames. The sight was akin to two dancers, seemingly drawn to each other for an embrace resulting in fatality.

Lon'qu watched, disdain visible across his countenance while Henry snickered. The white palfrey whickered along with him, seeming to enjoy the sight with his rider. The crow only frolicked about, twitching its head with its beady eyes glinting.

"It'll be right up, hold your pantaloons on!" said Henry, taking delight at the snake crackling within the flames.

Waiting, the swordsman stood from the ground and headed to his garron. The creature rested with legs tucked behind it and stretched its head on Lon'qu's approach. Strapped over the creature's back was the travelling bag Lon'qu took with him and he brought out the box filled with figs. He gave one to the garron and took one for himself. Returning before the fire, he took small bites.

Henry eyed the fig in the man's hand and his smile seemed to take on a dark ambience.

"So…" he began, "how are you enjoying those figs? I helped pick them before they were sent off to you. I'm surprised they're still fresh."

At hearing Henry's words, Lon'qu nearly choked mid-swallow. Immediately, he inspected the fig, brows furrowed.

Henry threw back his head, a cackle bursting out his mouth and slapped his knee.

"Oh, you have little faith in me, Lon'qu!"

"What would make you say that?" replied Lon'qu, glancing away. He persisted on consuming the half-eaten fruit, taking a nibble rather than bite.

"Only one is cursed, nya-ha."

_Cursed_, sang the crow.

Lon'qu ate no further afterward.

The night had been as quiet as the previous. Before first light the flames were at an ember when they forced themselves from slumber. They broke their fast with pieces of jerky and pieces of oranges. Eating, the swordsman felt more withered than renewed. He realized he had a dreamless sleep and without the image of Robin, he could not rest easy. Regardless, he continued on, and ignored Henry's comment of how _well rested_ he looked.

A dusted covered gate stood strong below, beckoning the duo to quickly hurry down the long spiraling descent.

Their pace was unsteady as they fought the gravity on their backs. If anything, the trek downward was far quicker than the trek up the mountain. By the time they arrived before the gate where burly sentinels stood, the sun had finally begun to beat hard with the heat of its rays.

Unfortunately, Lon'qu was already working up a sweat. Henry, on the other hand, remained dry.

"Don't melt on me now," said Henry. He urged his palfrey to move forward before the sentinels.

They stood tall and proud, wearing very little armor save for the head, arms, legs, and crotch. Around their necks hung a charm, meant to ward off curses from practicing dark mages with allegiance to the Grimleal.

Beyond the gate a symphony of music filled the air, thunderous beats joined by the cheers of the Plegian people.

"Ohhhh!" Henry crowed, enthused. He looked to Lon'qu. "I totally forgot there would be an event today! Lucky we made it in time."

Lon'qu felt his garron beneath him stir, no doubt under the influence of the sounds taking place. He tried to get a feel for the energies ahead, but he remained indifferent.

"What kind of event is this?" asked Lon'qu, visibly perturbed. The idea of a party was not something the swordsman had a liking to.

"A celebration for someone," was all Henry said, but beneath the smile he wore, a sense of dread reeked. "Now, open sesame!" the dark mage ordered.

The sentinels did not hesitate.

Creaking open, the dust gathered on the gates scattered downward, showering the travelers as they rode through.

Before them laid out a golden square, a fountain stood in the center and the statue above it with water gushing through its maw was none other than the Fell Dragon. Inert from the production of marble, the damned beast was made to be in mid-flight. Grima's feathered wings expanded far and wide, casting shade for the denizens. His claws were stretched out as though ready to swipe and the tusks protruding from either side of his face gleamed proudly beneath the sun.

Below which stood as the statue's foundation, children played in the water. They splashed at each other and squealed with delight.

"I have never seen such a sight," he said, looking to Henry.

"It's a lovely piece of art, I'll admit, but the eyes really add a nice touch in a haunting sort of way," replied Henry. He pointed upward so to indicate where Grima's eyes were.

Lon'qu followed Henry's pallid finger and felt a sense of awe fill him.

Grima had six eyes. Three on each side of the dragon's face; the gems embedded in the statue shone brightly.

Ruby, sapphire, and emerald on one side, obsidian, ivory, and amethyst on the other. They were utterly breathtaking.

Surrounding the main square was a massive crowd of celebrating denizens, waving about in cheer as they waited patiently before the castle gates. Seeing how the country of Plegia was a desert, there was no moat to separate the people from the castle. Instead, massive fences made of gold with intricate designs the shade of lavender surrounded the royal castle. Before the gates stood a hooded entourage, with embroidery sewn above their hearts and they stood with a hand grasped firm on their weapons.

"I wondered if Robin would have found this statue beautiful or not. Is this an affront to you, Lon 'Qu?" inquired Henry, noticing how Lon 'Qu hardly paid attention to their environment.

"…No."

Minutes later the creaking of the castle's gates swung open.

"Before you stands the king of Plegia, Morgan!" a man cried, running out from the castle gates. He adorned the same attire as the hooded entourage and led them. They all flanked behind the apparent leader, fanning out so as to move the wave of denizens. It wasn't before long until Lon'qu saw him, walking down from the golden steps with a crown nestled upon his head.

The crowds cheered for the boy king, kneeling before him as he waved to all. Lon'qu could hardly recognize him from where he stood, but the raven black hair Morgan inherited could not be mistaken.

Henry led him behind the crowd to reach the back entrance, where burly sentinels stood rigid. They stepped away at the sight of Henry, but their cold eyes narrowed on Lon'qu.

"Haha! Let up, guys, there's no CAWS to be so frigid! This is King Morgan's father!"

The indifference remained, but their eyes softened at once. Upon closer inspection, despite the tan given under the hot weathers of Plegia, these men were obviously Ylissean by birth.

_My son is surrounded by Chrom's men to defend him. He has done much more than I have this past year._

As they unhorsed themselves, Henry prodded Lon'qu to hurry after him. Being led into the castle yard he scanned all about him, noticing the lush bushes and plants that occupied the massive space. There was another fountain with a figure built in its center. This time the statue was something else entirely.

"Was this recently made?" Lon'qu asked, faltering in his stride after Henry.

Henry turned around, his voice exasperated. "Yes, Lon'qu, don't pay much attention to it now. C'mon!"

There was nary a change in the royal castle's interior; the purple carpets with golden fringes dominated the floor, purple drapes with a black dragon sigil hung on the walls and the black marble reflected everything it could take in. Lon'qu could even see himself as he examined the familiar surroundings. No one was present except for himself and Henry.

"Stand somewhere off on the side in the meanwhile, Lon'qu," Henry advised, turning in circles while he pointed his finger in random directions.

Lon'qu obeyed Henry and went to stand somewhere. He would soon see his son for the first time in a year. In reality, it wasn't much time passed, but as he stood there feeling as though his stomach might drop, the separation came to feel as if it were years.

Outside the cheers escalated, nearly drowning out the music he had heard minutes ago. The songs were hard to decipher, but Lon'qu noticed how Henry joined in. The dark mage began to hum as he went about the throne room, continuing his random twirling and pointing.

"Just what are you doing?" Lon'qu asked, his voice trilled due to anxiety.

Henry didn't bother to stop his movements. "Unwinding any and all curses I happen to sense," he replied, characteristically enthused.

His reply zapped all the anxiety Lon'qu had, being reminded of why he was here. Lon'qu put his hand on the hilt of his blade, giving it a firm squeeze to reassure himself.

"How many have you detected?"

"Not as much as yesterday," Henry replied, unimpressed. "I usually spend a couple of hours unwinding them and sending it right back to their casters. Maybe the Grimleal is letting up?"

"Henry…"

"Yes?"

The swordsman looked down to his feet, gazing at his reflection as he spoke. "I really appreciate all you have done for my son, especially after what I've done…"

"Don't mention it, like, ever," he slowed his steps. "It was more for Robin than for you,"

Lon'qu opened his mouth, but no words came. He only nodded.

Hot winds breathed into the castle, and with it came a marching group of guards. The hooded entourage hardly made a sound, yet their presence was overwhelming. They were joined in rows of three; with four in each however the first row lacked one. From where he stood, Lon'qu noticed the first row's embroideries. The first was a golden sword, the second a dancing swordswoman, and the third was a wyvern in mid-flight. The rest he could not see as everyone filed in.

"It looks like Henry has returned," said one of the hooded figures.

"And I bring back something for our Grace's name day!" Henry shouted, jubilant. "But I fear it isn't something necessarily wanted. Needed, however."

Lon'qu watched Henry turn his sight on himself. At once, Lon'qu felt unsure, almost nervous.

"Pray tell me, what is this you have brought?" asked another hooded figure.

"Our Grace shall see to the gift when he's ready,"

"I shall see the gift now, Henry, thank you,"

A year had done much to his son than he could have imagined. As the entourage departed at the soft steps of the new king, Lon'qu could hardly breathe. He noticed Henry beckoning him to come forward, but Lon'qu felt his feet become lead. It took all his strength to move and before he could reach Henry, Morgan had already waited patiently. The first thing Lon'qu noticed was the blatant absence of his son's youthful exuberance. The sparkle of curiosity in the boy's eyes was replaced with the glint of indifference. Morgan's face was no longer round and his cheekbones were prominent, giving the boy an emaciated appearance. When Lon'qu got close enough he noticed how much taller his son had grown. Before, Morgan was at his chest, but now he rivalled his height.

He met his son's dark expressive eyes, seeing in them Robin and deeper within the animosity the boy birthed.

_He has his mother's eyes, but they shine with my fury._ Lon'qu didn't know what to do or what to say. His son stood before him wearing deep purple robes with golden fringes and dark swirls as design. They looked much like his former attire, but the cloth puddled at his feet and a trail remained stationary behind him.

Lon'qu knelt before his son. He didn't know what else to do, lest he commit an affront. He decided that kneeling was the safest course of action.

A scoff was heard from above.

"I may be king, but I am still your son, father. Stand, you have no need to kneel."

**-**  
**A/N: To be continued in part two of chapter three. Thank you for still sticking around during my absence!**


	4. Your Grace pt 2

**A/N: It's been awhile... a LONG while. I had a bit of writer's block going on along with college. All I can really say is I'll try to post faster from this point on. Enjoy!**

- 

She down stared at him when he found himself in a field of golden wheat. The skies had faded to the color of sand and in the midst small specks managed to shine. The wheat rolled beneath the breath of a brisk wind and the faint smell of spring engendered the cessation of his anxiety. He only came to his senses when he felt warm, familiar fingers run down his arm. When he tried to sit up, he felt another set of fingers press against his chest, coaxing him to lie back down. He couldn't quite make out her face, for her hair obscured much of it. At first sight he wasn't sure of who she was, but when she moved he knew her then.

He raised his hand to her face, cupping her cheek and felt at peace when she nuzzled into his hand. Lowering her, he wrapped his arm around her waist. The weight of her body against his had not changed. Every part of her remained the same and when she settled her head against his chest, Lon'qu felt whole once again.

"What was that?" he asked, feeling her mouth move against his chest. At first, he wanted the silence to remain. The fear of this seeming eternity to shatter was overwhelming. However, the prospect of conversation could not be denied.

"Do you remember?" she said, barely above a whisper.

Lon'qu arched a brow. He wanted to sit up so as to look Robin full in the face, but a feeling told him to remain stationary.

"Of what?" he asked.

"Of when we first met Morgan before we met the Valmese forces,"

There was hardly any effort to bring up such memories. He found himself pondering on the past since his brusque reunion with Morgan. How different the boy had been then could not be ignored. Had Morgan bore another face, Lon'qu knew he would not have recognized his son.

"I do," he ran his hand to the mid of her back. "How could I possibly forget such an event?"

Something of a smile could be hinted in her voice when she spoke. "He thought me mad when I told him he was in a different time, and after the battle in the ruins…"

"He came to you with a smile that could light up the darkness,"

"I remember how jealous you got when Morgan embraced me, Lon'qu! The look on your face when you realized he belonged to us."

The swordsman feigned indifference, but in truth he felt his face grow hot at the memory. In the aftermath, Lon'qu had left the rear when he had been forced to remain back at the start of the battle. Robin and Chrom ran ahead when they realized an innocent was in the midst of battle. He never quite learned the details, however, when he found a young man tailing his beloved like a pup, Lon'qu could not deny a sense of jealousy.

The sentiment grew worse when he found Robin's arm wrapped around the young man.

"Who is this?" he asked, once he reached her.

He remembered how her face bore an expression he never seen before. It was like a mix of confusion and happiness. For some reason, seeing that look on her face made him doubtful.

"This'll sound crazy… but…" Robin began, having seen Lon'qu's skepticism. She motioned toward the boy beside her. "He's our son, Morgan,"

"—What?"  
"—This is dad?"

Their responses overlapped. They stared at each other for a long time until Robin forced a cough. Of course, Morgan was the first to execute action. He collided into Lon'qu with cloaked arms coiling around him.

Lon'qu had become stiff at the physical contact. It wasn't so much that he didn't enjoy the hug, but more because he was surprised.

When the boy felt the lack of reaction from his father, he looked up to see Lon'qu's face. The first thing Lon'qu noticed was how Morgan inherited his mother's eyes. Perhaps it was the sole reason why Lon'qu no longer felt the surprise and in consequence, he returned the hug.

A smile came across the boy's face and he huddled closer to Lon'qu. "I'm afraid to say that I don't remember you, father, but this embrace feels right to me."

"As it is for me… Morgan,"

The thought went away when he felt the weight of Robin cease. He opened his eyes to find her standing now, surrounded in a rain of pink petals and looking into the distance as she drew her hood over her eyes. Her lips were a stiff line.

Lon'qu sat up, on the process to stand beside her, but she waved him back.

She opened her mouth to say something, but seemed to have a second thought and closed it. There was a sense of urgency coming from her.

"Robin…?"

The woman flinched at the sound of her name. Quickly, she turned to look down at Lon'qu briefly and knelt beside him. He watched her every movement. Finding himself frozen when he knew the dream would soon come to an end. She pressed her pallid hand against his stomach, whispering something incoherent.

"She's been near you, hasn't she?"

"What?"

"You will be fine now,"

He could have paid attention to the hot Plegian night, but as much as he wanted to, he couldn't. His skin was hot and slick with perspiration and he could feel the blanket stick to him as he tried to turn over. A growl protested his movements and Lon'qu was back on his side again.

The steward he was assigned recently left, leaving a new chamber pot by the lattice window. The steward had been quick about it and Lon'qu couldn't blame him.

The growl grew louder suddenly then, prompting him to clench his stomach when he finally decided to brave against the pain.

It was only a matter of time until one of his many punishments took a grip on him.

He suddenly realized what Robin meant in the dream, of whether _she_ had been near him.

Lurching toward the chamber pot, he was quick to excrete the cursed fig. Lon'qu had the better idea to toss the fruits away, but a nagging feeling engendered him to dismiss the notion entirely.

However, he had been confronted by Tharja after being led by a steward. He noticed her in the corner of his eyes as he proceeded up the stairs and several halls. She had been lurking in the shadows yet said nothing. Lon'qu thought little of it at the time for the reunion remained heavy on his mind.

After the brusque reunion with his son, the swordsman was guided away to an assigned solar. The room was lush with rich decoration, following the gold and purple theme, the colors of Plegia. The floors were black as ink, engendering the thought that he walked amongst the darkness. If it weren't for the golden mats, he would have thought at the possibility of falling into an endless pit.

"That woman," he groaned.

To pass the time, he settled upon remember the events preceding the night.

Morgan tilted his head now and then so as to keep his crown steady. It was as if the weight was too much to bear and in a way, Lon'qu figured it would be the case, in more ways than one. The King sat straight with an astute ambience. When Morgan ascended his throne, he walked with a confidence that differed the blithe one Lon'qu remembered. In a way, Lon'qu would have barely recognized his son.

He hit a growth spurt, became lean, and brandished his blade with such familiarity that made Lon'qu proud. The scabbard was black; the sword's hilt displayed a pommel with a dragon's head. Beneath the light, the steel shone like illuminated lake water on a dark night. It was nothing Lon'qu had ever seen before. As Morgan laid his blade across his lap, the young man caught his father's gaze.

"Fascinating, isn't it?" Said Morgan. "It was gifted to me on my coronation. They say the steel was found in the mountains of Ferox and was dyed black."

The King gazed down at his blade. "It's called Dragon's Wrath."

Lon'qu said nothing for a time, feeling everyone's eyes on him as he stood before his son.

Morgan seemed to sense the unease. With a dismissive wave, most of the court went on their way. Presently, it was just Morgan, the hooded entourage, and Henry.

"You can speak now, we're all friends here, father. I'm sure you're not in favor of the royalty in my court, but my Dragon's Guard keeps me safe."

The hooded entourage kneeled at once. In unison, they whispered, "to protect the realm of present and future."

Lon'qu nodded. "I trust you are safe, but I have been summoned to fortify your protection, yes?"

Morgan frowned, tilting his head when his crown seemed to slide.

Henry intervened before anymore could be exchanged.

"I have presented you you're father on your name day, your Grace. Surely, you will exercise the tools set before you?"

"Have you gotten me something on my name day, father?"

Henry had mentioned the festivities upon their arrival. It didn't register to Lon'qu that the festival was dedicated to his own son.

_How could I have forgotten my son's own birthday?_

Noticing the king's expectant gaze, Lon'qu took a steady step forward. He expired a held breath and sifted through his pack. When he produced the carving he created a couple days ago, a wistful look drew across Morgan's face.

A feeling of anxiety spurred the swordsman to promptly explain himself.

"When I received your letter, I came to reminisce of your mother... So I proceeded to create the mark. It was made with the sentiment inspired by Robin."

The ambience became tense then.

Lon'qu proceeded to move onward, ascending the carpeted steps leading before Plegia's throne. He knelt on the second to last step and bowed his head, finding himself in perfect view of Morgan's blade. When his son failed to respond in a timely manner, Lon'qu looked up to find Morgan's eyes closed in thought and his knuckles were white as he dug his fingers into the armrest.

Morgan took the carving, maneuvering his hand to examine it in further detail. His eyes were dull, but something of a light shone in them.

"...thank you, father."

Lon'qu only nodded, relieving himself from the kneeling and gingerly stepped back.

For a time a silence hung in the air, thick with questions and answers needed to be voiced. Lon'qu looked all about him to gather his thoughts on the situation at hand. Those he walked in arms changed in a way he hadn't anticipated. It was as if a year's passing had been far longer, long enough where such changes could make sense. And yet, as he stood before his son, now king, Lon'qu found himself accepting that what happened was real. It was real and frightening. Robin was just a memory and the changes transpired upon her disappearance transformed the land in a way he could not imagine.

Was there really an achieved peace?

The Grimleal maintained their stance in the belief of Grima.

People criticized the decisions of the new Exalt on assigning a _dragon spawn_ to Plegia's throne.

No one seemed to be entirely satisfied.

"I would entertain your company further, father, but I have pressing matters to attend to. You will be assigned to a chamber,"

Lon'qu accepted his dismissal. Before he went, something caught his eye. Morgan was filled with anguish, yes, but there was something wrong. Following after an aged, doddery steward, Lon'qu watched his son on the throne. The king did not meet Lon'qu's eyes as he left, but there was certainly something. Henry hurried to Morgan with an imploring look, as if to say "don't you dare think of doing something reckless."

Had his own son tried to cast him down? Lon'qu tried not to think too much on the matter until he heard a sudden rush of wind behind him. When he looked over his shoulder, clouds of smoke briefly lingered in the air.

The last words he heard were just what he saw in Henry's face.

"I'm all for frying dead beats, but you can't be using your powers like this 'cause—"

The dark mage's voice had cut off when armed guards closed the massive doors.

And for most of the day, Lon'qu kept quiet in his solar.

"Hiyah! Haaah! Arghhhaahhh! Mother!" A strained voice accompanied the ring and clash of blade against what he assumed to be stone. The tone of the voice alone was enough to prod Lon'qu along as he cleaned himself and descended the spiral stairway in a matter of minutes, his stomach pain no longer a concern. There had been an absence of guards once he reached the posterior of the kingdom, leading out to the yard where he'd been guided to enter.

Nary a breeze breathed among the yard yet a large blade of a leaf lowered to grace his head. Lon'qu waved the annoying thing and hurried down the sandy path where he found himself witness to the fountain he noticed earlier. Henry had not allowed him a moment to gaze at the creation, but the marble material seemed to glow an incandescent light. He would not be too far off if he assumed magic. At the foot of the fountain stood Morgan, his blade held over his head and his eyes focused on a floating stone statue. The king was free of his robes, exposing a lean stomach glistening with perspiration.

Each step the king took, the statue mimicked. Morgan strode forward several steps, attempting to ambush the bewitched statue before it could react. They're blades kissed sharply while sparks flew. One step aside, a slice dodged. A step retracted and back bent meant to elude. From where Lon'qu could assess, both wielders were at each other's level. Unfortunately, the statue seemed not to stagger whereas Morgan did. His sword hand began to tremble after several exchanged blows. However, Morgan showed a willingness to prolong his exertions. During the entire event, Lon'qu found himself in awe of his son's progress.

He remembered the times where he and Morgan trained. The boy was far more talented in his magic than with steel, like his mother, yet he was insistent to meet Lon'qu's expectations. Lo and behold, before the man were the fruits of his son's labor.

"I am no spawn! I am the tactician's legacy!"

Morgan ignored the swing aiming for his chest and spun in place. With one hand a sphere of fire flew toward the statue's face, the tip of Morgan's blade crashing through its stone torso soon followed. The dummy then combusted into ash and collected into the water where it became a clump. Dragon's Wrath was tossed aside while Morgan braced himself by clinging onto the fountain statue's leg.

Lon'qu didn't know what killed him more: being absent in his son's time of need or how the boy clung onto the statue of Robin.

"Morgan, you've exhausted yourself,"

The young king thrust away from the statue in a panic when he heard his father's voice. He tried to stand tall to assume his assigned authority, yet he struggled to keep still. Lon'qu walked slowly toward his son, wary to not offend the boy. The animosity in Morgan's eyes was not present when they laid on the swordsman. However, it did not stop him from telling his father to stay away.

"I'm fine, father, you needn't help me, you haven't before." He said curtly.

Lon'qu tried to not take offense. "You're guards are not present and I see you struggling to stand. Surely, you do not want to collapse before your mother's statue,"

Morgan's eyes narrowed then, growing dark and solid at the mention of Robin's memorial piece. It all happened in a manner of seconds when he beckoned for Dragon's Wrath with a wave of his pallid hand.

"Under what authority allows you to make mention of mother? Never utter her name. You've lost the right when you abandoned her!"

Lon'qu did not draw his blade to parry the strike. There was no need to. The boy had improved, yes, but his exertions cost him.

The man stepped back two paces before his son. Their eyes met and Lon'qu unhanded his son easily enough and embraced him when he ultimately collapsed. He had expected that, save for the blood that stained his sleeve when his son entered a coughing fit.

At once, the stampede of rushing feet closed in around the two. Lon'qu was caught unawares at their speedy intervention.

"King Morgan, not again!"  
"Quickly, we must take him away."  
"Cease your hold on the king, sir, you mustn't see the king this way."

The people present were Morgan's guard. A group of cloaked warriors with unique insignias embroidered over their hearts. A cloaked guard with a dancing swordswoman appeared before Lon'qu to relinquish his hold on Morgan. He tried to give a fight until he realized the effort would be futile.

They carried Morgan off save for one cloaked man. He waited till the others entered the back entrance before he went to Lon'qu.

"It's been awhile, Lon'qu," the cloaked man stated.

Lon'qu recognized the voice, but couldn't quite place it. He found a torch sewn onto the man's chest and tried to make sense of it.

"Forgive me for your nonplussed expression, give me a moment," his voice was deep, yet mechanic. He drew a gloved hand before his hood and pulled it back, revealing a head of crimson and eyes hidden beneath the glare of spectacles.

"Laurent," said Lon'qu, matter of factly.

"Yes, it is I,"

"I thought…"

Laurent shook his head and raised a hand so as to quiet the swordsman. "I haven't the ample time to answer inquiries, but I can tell you that everything will be cleared up in the near future. All I can offer you now is that Morgan did not write you the letter, but rather I. Go back to your chambers and I will seek you out soon enough."

For sure he could not sleep after all he experienced. He sat on the corner of his bed staring down at his lap which held the bloodied shirt.

What did they mean _not again_? Had this been going on for a time?

Lon'qu's fingers trembled as they pressed against the blood spots. At first he assumed they meant for Morgan's efforts, but the amount of blood the boy hacked up shadowed the original thought.

It was a rather sizeable amount the longer he stared at his shirt. By the time he could pry the shirt away, he found the darkness in the room begin to cease as the heat slowly drifted away and the smell of the garden outside seeped through the window. He heard the servants outside begin their morning routine.

Tossing the shirt aside to drop on the floor, Lon'qu dropped into the bed and closed his eyes. The confrontation of Morgan broke the pains in his stomach and scared off whatever curse Tharja had put on him the day before. And while the whole ordeal shook him, it did not shake him as much as what he heard from Laurent. The son of Miriel and Henry… He said he would come for Lon'qu soon, but when would that be?

Perhaps he should sleep to expedite the time. Unfortunately, such a thing proved difficult to accomplish, even with the potential prospect of dreaming about Robin. When he woke, he remembered smelling the faint scent of flowers. Lon'qu recalled the last image of Robin in the dream, she was doused in a rain of swaying pink petals.

Remembering the dream managed to ease him though only for a while. Before he knew it, he could discern how soft the bed was and quickly after, feeling himself slip.

The doors to his solar creaked open then, breaking the calm he achieved. Reluctant, he forced himself to sit up. Sure enough, Laurent stood before him, with Henry at his tail. There was a perturbed look on the crimson boy, but meeting Lon'qu dispelled whatever burdened him.

"I'll take you to Morgan, now,"

Henry protested. "The king does not—"

"It matters not what the king wants, but rather what he _needs_, father." Laurent interjected.

The little smirk on Henry's face seemed to buckle. The white-haired man seemed to want to press further with whatever argument he had with Laurent, but forfeited when he threw an ingratiating smile at Lon'qu. "Well, you heard the kiddo, let's go." 

The boy looked as innocent as he remembered with his eyes drawn closed. Were it not for the beads of sweat budding on his forehead, Lon'qu would have taken the scene joyfully. Laurent bade him entrance, but ordered him to be quiet and to allow Morgan to awaken on his own. When he opened the door, the hooded young man handed the swordsman a heated skin bottle.

"It is his medicine, to keep the pain at bay and to provide strength." Laurent explained in a whisper.

Lon'qu took the skin and did what was expected of him. He closed the door quietly and scanned his son's room. It was definitely worthy for a king. The bed was massive, big enough to make Morgan seem small. Had it not been for the boy's growth spurt, Lon'qu imagined his son to look even more dimunitative.

The canopies were a shade of violet, dotted with golden specks. Beneath was thick carpeting with bundles of clothing scattered. Laruent warned him beforehand that Morgan scarcely left his room. On one side of the room where the lattice windows faced the Border Pass, several shelves of books stood. On the corner nearest Morgan's bed was a desk embellished with stacks of text. Lon'qu briefly looked them over only to gain a headache at the sight. He wasn't an academic man, he knew. Books were not his strong point and looking at the contents gave him a feeling of inferiority. Robin was a talented fighter and an intelligent individual. So was Morgan. Lon'qu, on other hand, was only useful for his martial prowess. With time, that skill would go away.

Satisfied with his observations he took cover near the curtains where the shadows remained. As he waited for his son to awaken, he raised the skin to his face. It was warm like it was alive. He pulled at the cork out of curiosity and he quickly met with regret. With all his strength he tried not to drop the skin. Whatever medicinal concoction this was, he was glad to not be the recipient. It reeked of something rotten.

"Nnnghh… mo…" Morgan stirred.

Lon'qu felt his feet become lead.

"Mother…" the young king moved beneath his sheets, sounding feverish. "The trees… how the leaves fall… mom…"

The swordsman did his best to not make a sound. He moved slowly from the shade.

"Father…"

He felt his throat constrict.

"I'm angry… Mom, what would…"

His mumbles became incoherent then, drifting into whispers until they turned for the worst. The young king woke with a start, his lids flashing open while he breathed in deep. His eyes were wide and a look of fear took over his pale face. At once, they took in Lon'qu's presence and the sharp look from before returned.

"You…" Morgan tried to move, but his body trembled violently. Turning onto his side, Morgan entered a coughing fit till he began to croak.

Lon'qu watched in fear, he closed the gap to embrace his son. Morgan tried to shove his father away, but the strength he demonstrated the day before had vanished. With one arm, Lon'qu secured Morgan tightly and with the other he placed the skin bottle near his son's lips. Morgan drank at the concoction as though it were water. The smell still made Lon'qu want to gag, but from what he could see, his son had become accustomed to the medicine. This realization unsettled him.

"Morgan, just what is the meaning of this?"

The young king had taken the bottle from Lon'qu's hand, drawing his head back to allow the warm liquid to slide down his throat. When he finished, he dropped the bottle before him and wiped his mouth dry with the back of his hand. Through heavy pants Morgan regarded his father carefully. There was a pensive expression on his face, a look which told him that his son was considering his words.

"It is not solid, but there's a good chance I am dying."

A couple hours passed when Lon'qu finally awoken. The light hit strong against him with the curtains drawn and at the moment he wished he was back at Regna Ferox, where he would prefer the cold to numb him. A sound of tumbling came from one side accompanied with fluttering. Soft steps quickly followed and hovering above his face was Morgan, a massive tome in hand.

"You've awakened, father," he said simply, sounding better than before. Perhaps the medicine, despite the stomach twisting smell it induced, worked after all. With that being the case, would it mean the medicine could preserve Morgan's life?

Morgan seemed to register the thought through Lon'qu's face. He shook his head. "I may look better, but appearances are deceiving. Stand when you have the strength and I shall explain…"

It took some time before he could manage getting up. Morgan perched himself on the edge of his bed to leaf through a book. The king looked up from the pages when he heard his father groan.

"I did not hail for your presence, you must know," he said.

"I'm aware, Laurent told me."

"I'm pretty sure on who sent it, since my other options are currently… well, I'll bring that up later."

Lon'qu arched a brow. He stood before his son in a tizzy, unsure of what to do other than wait for an explanation. Raking his raven hair the swordsman opted to sit by a vacant chair he spotted near the door.

It seemed Morgan caught the message and while he looked hesitant to elaborate on what he said earlier, prior to Lon'qu's fainting spell, they both knew it needed to be expanded upon.

The king put the book aside, keeping his hand on the cover as he started. "It was not long after your defect from the Shepherds. I thought it was just a normal sickness, but after seeing the healers, the symptoms only grew worse. I did all I could to hide it, yet the signs were all there. Chrom did his best to provide and while I knew it was because of mother, it only became a burden. I eventually came upon using lady's paints to mask the illness and it worked for a time up until I came to Plegia. My commander of my Dragon's Guard came upon an explanation."

Morgan paused, taking a deep breath. "The children from the future are what makes up my guard. I had not intended for that to be so, but they insisted once they learned of Chrom's plans. To repay Robin's sacrifice, they explained and my guard came to be. Needless to say, Lucina was among them and was the commander."

"'Was'?" Lon'qu pointed out.

His son frowned. "I thought she may have sought you out, but I have not heard from her for some time. She came up with the theory that I may be dying because…"

"Because?" Lon'qu pressed.

"I know you may be skeptical, but…" Morgan looked down at his hand touching the cover. He remained quiet for a moment before continuing. He dared not look at Lon'qu, instead he looked to some spot on the ceiling. "Mother may still be alive. Weak, but alive and growing weaker."

The silence was expected, both of them knew. Morgan still did not look at his father. Lon'qu did stare at his son, though. He cupped his hands against his mouth, stifling whatever may come out.

"Back when I found you on your own, I could see you have given up on mother. I know you tried to spare me, but the eyes never lie. I grew to hate you and I still do for what you've done, but I can hardly blame someone lesser than a man. Why else for your silence? You think me mad."

Morgan's words stung. They cut through the swordsman deeply, and through the wound he felt guilt pour like a rain of blood. He nevertheless held his tongue, for while he watched Morgan, he could see in the boy's eyes that they became glassy with tears. However, when the king spoke, his voice remained firm.

"Will you not defend yourself?" he asked, agitated. "You've lost two women and for each you've ran away from. You pride yourself a warrior, but you must be a man for that to begin with."

Lon'qu began to sweat, not out of the heat outside, but of anger. He knew his son meant to provoke him yet he wondered whether he crossed the line. _This isn't the time to be cross, Lon'qu, the boy is still wounded. Be as still as water, remember._

"You craven…"

"Morgan," Lon'qu finally said. "You may hate me, bear a crown, and wounded, but I am still your father. I demand that you not speak to me in such a manner, your mother would not like that."

A scowl came upon his face then. He took hold of the book to clutch it against his chest when he averted his gaze on the ceiling to meet his father's.

"Lucina feels that mother is still alive and took leave to Ylisstol to explain the theory to Chrom. She promised to send me a raven telling me of her arrival, but it's been weeks now. I'm afraid for what that could mean and that could be an array of reasons. I suppose, since you are here, I could make use of you."

"What would you have of me?"

"All the ravens I've sent to the Halidom have not returned. I cannot send anyone from my guard to go with the Grimleal still about. I have ample strength to hold me, but I need someone to check what is going on."

"You want me to go see the Exalt, then?"

Lon'qu would go if his son wished it although he knew what would be waiting there. He had only been to the Halidom on three different occasions, but never spent any longer than a day. The first was after Lady Emmeryn's fall, second after the war, and third when the Khan sent word of the Valmese threat. He and Robin were wed sometime after the war, but she did not take leave with him to Regna Ferox due to her duties back in Ylisse. In the time between the raising of Chrom's banner, they shared correspondence through ravens. In the last letter she said she would come visit him. Instead, Lon'qu showed up with the messenger a couple weeks later. He remembered Robin being upset at his lack of response. _I wanted to surprise you, Robin. You cannot fault me with wanting to see the look on your face when I suddenly showed up._

She was not entirely amused at his explanation, but allowed the slight. She only embraced him tightly in way of a punishment, which was hardly any. "I'm just glad you're safe," Robin had told him. When she embraced him he could feel her yearning and as he held her, he could smell flowers in her hair. In that moment, he never wanted to leave her side again.

But she was gone. Regardless of whatever theory his son or Lucina had.

"You do not have to go now, father, you can rest another day, but time is of the essence. See if Lucina is there and speak with Chrom. He does not take your mentioning well and I'm sure he would rage at the sight of you, but under my order he may tolerate you."

He prepared for departure as quickly as he could. Upon leaving his son's solar, he stood before the door with his hand on the knob, hesitating.

"I failed you, I know, but I will always be your father and I will always love you. Never think for a second that I haven't. You are Robin's and mine own blood."

"I know."


	5. To Ylisse

The Lady Emmeryn had not been the same since her fall. She showed no signs of the events prior to her awakening, but as she strolled about the kingdom of Yllistol she found herself gathering memories of who she had been.

Chrom, since her discovery, was always by her side when he found the time.

However, since the final battle, Emmeryn found herself walking on her own unless Frederick was summoned. On a particularly warm day, she kept to her thoughts while locking arms with Frederick. He usually tried to initiate conversation, but Emmeryn found it difficult to respond.

Her replies were usually monosyllable. On good days, she could mutter a full sentence. Today, she found it more difficult than usual. Images kept flashing before her eyes when she closed them. The veins in her head throbbed with a feeling of constriction and the lack of blood flow left her disoriented. When her siblings first witnessed the signs, she tried to pry them off.

Despite her lack of remembering them, she knew she could not let them fret over her well-being. Chrom in particular she needed to avoid as the spells became more frequent. Whenever Frederick was summoned, she would keep close to him, clinging onto his arm mail when they came and simply brush the issue with the excuse of having a chill.

_But Gods above, you know what ails me… these images. _

She could discern the images well, but could not name the faces she saw. In the first spell she had, her heart not only palpitated like hummingbird's wings, but felt heavy like stone. To see their faces made her upset for not remembering and she found herself in a struggle when she tried to place them. Chrom was there and when he tried to help her, Emmeryn only swiped at her brother's face out of blind fear.

"My Lady," Frederick said, "we are here before the tree and how fortunate we are today to see the little Lucina out to play."

Emmeryn masked her surprise when he spoke, but witnessing the girl calmed her at once.

The girl paid them no particular mind as she was guided by a stewardess. Emmeryn preferred it to remain that way.

She wished to spare the child of her aunt's… impairment. It would be better for the girl to follow after Lissa. However, the youngest of the Royal Ylisse family was currently bedridden, heavy with child. Lissa's knight husband frequented the castle often despite Frederick's warnings. The man who took her sister's hand was kind and despite his social status, he was far nobler than the highborns Emmeryn had come to know. Chrom took the marriage well; knighting the young man after Chrom took the title of Exalt.

"Pretty… girl… Lucy…" she struggled.

Frederick nodded in compliance. "Yes, she is a lovely child. It's good to know she will grow lovelier in time, as we have seen."

_Yes, we have certainly seen._

Later in the evening, Emmeryn sat before her mirror, staring at herself while combing her hair. Each strand of her golden hair straightened beneath the force of the bristles, but bounced into curls again once relieved. The Brand was the focus of her attention and engendered a sense of dread. It took her a moment to endure the tremors before she could move. The brush fell from her hand and landed on the ground with a thud.

"Emmeyrn, are you alright?" a voice said, staccato.

She did not hear _her_ come. When she bent to retrieve the brush, the tremors took hold and she fell from her seat.

"Emmeryn!" she cried, running to Emmeryn.

The former Exalt had landed on her hands, mitigating the fall. She felt hands wrap about her. "Su… Sumia…"

She looked to the queen, her face a pallor tone that she thought her a corpse. Sumia pulled her close.

Her sister-in-law's hard stomach moved beside her, but Emmeryn paid little mind when the images of a dark dragon consumed her vision. She saw a familiar man, distraught as he held a woman in his arms. A toddler's wail could be heard somewhere nearby.

Something was coming and she knew something must be done.

*

Laurent led him to the stables where Lon'qu's garron had been taken to rest. The cloaked mage remained by the door as Lon'qu brushed the horse and prepared it for the journey south. Lon'qu could feel the young man's eyes on him.

"It's good to know that you and the others decided to take on the responsibility of protecting Morgan, had I not known I would have risked staying around longer till I got Basilio to send Feroxis."

When Laurent replied, he almost sounded bored. "Hmm, I could see some potential trouble in that, but it is our duty to maintain the peace Robin provided."

Something about how he said her name troubled the swordsman. He took hold of the saddle and placed it on the garron's back. The animal whinnied lowly, flicking its tail. Morgan had said he needn't depart right away and that left the man filled with questions. Did his son want him to stay a while longer? Or should he go to fulfill his needs? On his path to Plegia he had seen the patrolmen with the path to Ylisse guarded. From what he could remember he didn't see any archers that could shoot down ravens.

"How long has Lucina been missing?"

The red-haired boy didn't mull over the question. "About two months, max."

That was worrying, to say the least.

"Awful long time, I came here from Regna Ferox rather quickly."

"Because guilt expedited your feet, sir."

He bade his son farewell in his bedchamber. Morgan had adorned his ornate robes and held the hefty crown in his hands.

"It's quite a burden, I admit," the king stated when he caught his father observing the crown. "I read somewhere that a crown must be heavy, so the ruler is reminded of how large a responsibility he upheld once took his vows." He struggled to place the headpiece on his head, his arms trembling. It was clear Morgan was not yet well enough to proceed with his duties.

"About your theory, Morgan, I feel I must say that I want to believe, but it's just too much I can bear right now,"

Morgan only turned away to face a mirror a servant brought in. "You don't have to believe me, father. Had I the strength, I'd search all over to find her. Regardless, I do need to know of Ylisstol's current condition."

Lon'qu nodded. "Of course, I'll be sure to send word when I can."

The king did not bid his father a farewell.

Outside, Lon'qu watched the flow of water spout from Robin's empty hand. She had been made to stand in a battle position, prior to her summoning a spell to eliminate the enemy. A tome in the other hand glowed brightly under the hot baking sun. He could tell it was gilded in gold.

"You should skedaddle on now," he heard Henry say out of nowhere. The dark mage looked unusually pleased to see him. "She'll be here when you get back, if you do, that is. Last I heard, Chrom intended to cut you into ribbons and feed you to the crows! I'll admit that I offered to supply them, heehee."

Lon'qu grunted. "I am well aware of everyone's feelings for me. I'm not clueless."

"Sure sure," Henry agreed, clapping his hands together. "Anyway, I cannot lead you back to the gate. You're on your own this time so if you're confronted, kill the brigands, don't try to be diplomatic."

The memory made the hairs on his body bristle. He remembered how the attacker quickly died of asphyxiation.

"I'll be sure to remember."

"Oh! Before you go," Henry pulled out a roll of parchment from his sleeve and thrust it into Lon'qu's hand. "This states that you're working for the king should you be questioned on the road."

Riding to the gates was simple enough. No one gave him much trouble except for the excessive stares he'd received along the way. He did his best to ignore the whispers.

"I hear he is the father of the king."  
"He contributed to the dragon's spawn creation."

Their words were mixed between admiration and disdain. Lon'qu wasn't entirely sure what to think of the whole thing. The Plegians were not much different than the Feroxis since they shared a warlike culture, but their use of dark magic distinguished them well. The people of Regna Ferox saw magic users in a negative light, stating that they spent too much time in their reading, which quite possibly led them to become mad. The dark arts were not something to be trifled with, they had said. Lon'qu did his best to not be ethnocentric, but remembering Henry and Tharja gave ample reason to support the claims.

_But Robin was originally Plegian as well._

He pushed the thoughts aside as he came before the gates, drawing the hood of the white robe he'd been given by Laurent, claiming it would keep him cool during the ride back.

The guards paid him no particular attention at his presence and proceeded to open the gates until a gust of wind came their way. A shriek from a horse came behind him and the winds only became stronger.

"Wait for meeeee!" a young woman cried.

Lon'qu looked over his shoulder to find a cloaked guard astride a Pegasus. She landed beside him, falling off her stead to land face flat on the sandy ground. She quickly got back onto her feet, spitting out sand and brushing away the dirt accumulated on her cloak.

Lon'qu looked her over to find a Pegasus in flight embroidered over her heart. According to Morgan, the Dragon's Guard consisted of the future children, hence it was a no brainer to who this was. The second daughter to Chrom and Sumia.

Cynthia pulled the cloak back to stare up at the swordsman, her face a red mess as she tried to gather her words.

"I overheard what you and Laurent talked about back at the stables! I knew something was up with Lucy, but they wouldn't let me go!"

He didn't know what to say or what to do. The first thing to come to mind was to edge away from her approach and the second had been: what?

"I'm coming with ya!" she declared, thrusting her arms before her in a determined stance. "My sister is in trouble and I, as a hero, must come to her rescue!"

"Oh no, you won't! Gawds!" A shrill voice answered.

Cynthia bristled at hearing her voice. She kept her eyes focused on Lon'qu, refusing to meet Severa's sharp gaze as she drew up beside them. The girl was not dressed in the customary cloak of the Dragon's Guard, but she wore a red cloak pinned on her shoulder with a dragon's head.

"You can't make me, Severa, I need to find Lucina!"

Severa laughed in a derisive manner. "There is no need for Lucina is fine, now get back here this instance lest I knock you flat and drag you. You wouldn't want to embarrass our good king Morgan now, would you?"

The blue-haired heroine growled. "I dare you to try, Severa. When it comes to Lucina, I'll tear friend and foe apart!"

_Gods, you've got to be kidding me._ Lon'qu groaned internally. Not only was the situation awkward, it also made him ridiculously uncomfortable. He was surprised his garron did not react to the man's overwhelming resistance toward females. Mayhap the animal adjusted to Lon'qu's change in temperament. Regardless, he just wanted to carry on.

"Enough of your quorking, Cynthia, you will come with me, now." The red-haired girl jumped off her courser and walked over to Cynthia. She kept her steps measured and careful, aware of her comrade's inclinations. It came to no surprise when Chrom's second daughter kept to her word when she kicked the air out of Severa and quickly strode onto her Pegasus.

"You dastard!" Severa groaned, stunned.

This time the garron reacted. It nearly threw Lon'qu off, but he managed to calm the horse.

He slinked away when Cynthia drew close, her hands, now tan under Plegia's sun, gripped tightly on the bridle.

"We haven't time to tarry, Lon'qu we must hurry!"

She gave a light kick to her pegasus' side, engendering the magical animal to zoom ahead leaving only a cloud of dust to shower around him.

The swordsman closed his eyes, coughing into his inner arm before he followed after her.

_She's supposed to remain with Morgan, what am I to do?_

"I will send reinforcements to gather you back, Cynthia! Lon'qu, you better convince her to return or I'll tell Morgan you convinced her to come, telling her about Lucina!" Severa threatened from the distance.

"Things only seem to get worse, don't they, Robin?" he whispered to himself.

They covered many stretches upon their hastened departure from Plegia. Cynthia took to the skies whilst Lon'qu continued on ground, occasionally looking after her. The two hardly exchanged words, preferring to merely glance at the other, nod to affirm their current physical conditions, and carry on. It was only until nightfall when actual conversation happened.

The beat of her stead's massive wings made his clothes flatten against him. He closed his eyes to avoid an entrance of dirt and felt his hair flow back. She hopped off the horse gingerly, so she would not fall flat on her face.

They took rest at the round point of Border Pass, somewhere near the place he had stopped at before with Henry. If they continued this pace he was sure they would be at the fork in the road by tomorrow afternoon.

"For a year you aged quite a bit, sir," Cynthia observed, stripping herself of the cloak. She had not worn mail and in its place was boiled leather.

"I've not exactly taken care of myself the past year," Lon'qu agreed. They remained at a comfortable distance. He was glad she knew not to come close.

"Y'know, a lot of the Shepherds hate you,"

A sigh escaped him. "I am very aware. If you're going to say your piece—" she interjected at once. "Hey! I wasn't done. You don't have to be rude!"

He waited.

"What I wanted to say was: a lot of the Shepherds hate you, but I want you to know that what you did is… well, not okay, but understandable."

"What do you mean?"

A flicker in her eyes glowed beneath the moonlight. "In the past, I lost a lot of people I cared for. Despite my hero status, there were times where I wanted to run away. Difference is, war continued and I had no choice, but to continue. The war is done… but when you look at what you've won, sometimes you wonder if it was worth it. Robin disappeared and well… I could tell she was the world to you."

Lon'qu said nothing for a time.

"Regardless of your desertion, you came back on Morgan's beck, and that accounts for something."

"I suppose,"

The silence remained between them late into the night. Cynthia took rest beside her Pegasus, having draped her cloak about her and mumbling things about bards and the songs they would sing of her valor. Lon'qu, on the other hand, remained wide awake. He tended to the fire listlessly. Sleep would not come for him, he knew. For most of the night he preoccupied himself with how he would deal with the Ylisseans once he arrived. They would not welcome him warmly, that much was obvious.

What he was most concerned about was the Exalt. Chrom harbored affection for the silver-haired tactician, it was plain. Those who couldn't see it were fools, but the question of whether Robin reciprocated his feelings, none could say. She spent much of her time with Chrom, but in those times she was taken into her studies and planning out battle strategies. Prior to their relationship, Robin would spend her free time playing against Virion to test out battle sequences. The point was Robin used much of the time for the battlefield.

There were whispers of the commander and the tactician having indulged at some point, but Lon'qu refused to believe it.

_She was mine and all she bore was seen and felt by me, alone. _

Regardless, both he and Chrom shared something. They both dealt with emotional turmoil at the loss of Robin. When Lon'qu nursed his wounds back at Regna Ferox, he had heard from Flavia that Chrom had been absent for a great deal of time and when he returned to Ylisse, he struggled to carry out his duties.

"Rumors say when the Exalt returned from his failed mission to find Robin, he took to wearing black to honor her memory."

And what had Lon'qu done? He took to hiding and only came out for guard duty.

Having felt drained of thinking of Chrom and the day ahead, the swordsman drew away from the fire and went for his blade.

With the moon as his only witness, he began his repetitions. Each movement he took was slow, precise, and concentrated. Eyes closed, Lon'qu depended on his other senses to guide him. Once he could feel his energies possess his sword did he quicken each step. He sparred against the low winds weaving through the mountains, slicing against its force with the strength he exuded from each stroke. In his mind's eye he imagined the last battle.  
Morgan had not fallen under the gales during the battle on Grima's back. Everyone slayed their foes with ease and at the forefront on the nape of the Fell Dragon's neck, Robin and Chrom maintained an upper hand. At the last second before the finishing blow, neither Robin nor Chrom delivered it. Instead, Lon'qu had went ahead and done the deed.

The possessed Robin smiled before him, her eyes glowed blood red when he struck her through her heart. He retracted his blade and took his possessed wife into his arms.

"You can now join with the other Lon'qu, I'm sure he misses you dearly."

She only gasped in response.

But that's not what happened, did it?

Feeling his body and mind grow numb, he ceded his training to prepare for a short night's sleep. In his dream he only saw himself on a grassy knoll, looking over an expanse of large grass swaying like waves.

"I must depart here, Khan-in-the-making," Cynthia informed him after breaking their fast.

"So the guards will not take you back, I assume?"

The blue-haired girl nodded. "Severa will have sent word through raven, so I have little choice but to take to the skies. I suppose I'll see you in Ylisstol, take care."

She had been about to shake his hand until her hand froze midway, having remembered his aversion of women and opted to nod instead. The Pegasus rose at her approach and before long she took to the air, the animal's wings beating blades of wind upon him. He watched her soar into the skies till she became a small speck.

_I'm on my own now._

He reached the gates before long, hardly having trouble with the guards when he showed him the parchment. They gave a grunt of acknowledgement and allowed him to pass. Hardly much changed when he arrived, save for the packing away of merchants when others began to settle in. A few miles later down the path to the Halidom of Ylisse, he heard a distant cry in the woods. It did not take him long to arrive at the source. A big lithe wolf was crouched as its foot was caught in a trap. It whimpered when it stood still and yelped when it tried to tug away. With Lon'qu's approach, engendering the bushes to rattle, the wolf became defensive. The beast bared its fangs at the swordsman, but he paid little mind. The garron became tense at the sight so Lon'qu got off the horse and walked carefully towards the wolf, making sure not to pose as a threat.

The wolf watched him, its fur erect and pointed. He paid the creature's mood little mind, but admired its unique coloring; soft white that reminded him of polished marble beneath the sun's shine. With a quick glance he found the wolf to have grey eyes.

Unhinging the latch the wolf set off when it mistakenly stepped on the snatching device, the wolf gave a lurching start. Having placed too much weight at once, it buckled until it gathered its bearings.

_Awooo_, the canine whined. It turned to face Lon'qu, seeming pensive at what he'd done. He felt his body go cold briefly when he thought the beast would lunge for him. To his relief, the wolf only gave a snort and went on its way.

Watching the wolf disappear in the undergrowth, something about it intrigued him.

"I suppose that's your way of saying thanks, but it sounded more condescending than anything." He said to no one in particular.

**-**  
**From this point on, not entirely sure for the next chapter, but different viewpoints will be taken. Just letting you all know. Have a good day.~!**


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